Uncanny Tales

by Mrs. Molesworth

  "THE MAN WITH THE COUGH."

  I am a German by birth and descent. My name is Schmidt. But by educationI am quite as much an Englishman as a "Deutscher," and by affection muchmore the former. My life has been spent pretty equally between the twocountries, and I flatter myself I speak both languages without anyforeign accent.

  I count England my headquarters now: it is "home" to me. But a few yearsago I was resident in Germany, only going over to London now and then onbusiness. I will not mention the town where I lived. It is unnecessaryto do so, and in the peculiar experience I am about to relate I thinkreal names of people and places are just as well, or better, avoided.

  I was connected with a large and important firm of engineers. I had beenbred up to the profession, and was credited with a certain amount oftalent; and I was considered--and, with all modesty, I think I deservedthe opinion--steady and reliable, so that I had already attained a fairposition in the house, and was looked upon as a "rising man". But I wasstill young, and not quite so wise as I thought myself. I came very nearonce to making a great mess of a certain affair. It is this story whichI am going to tell.

  Our house went in largely for patents--rather too largely, some thought.But the head partner's son was a bit of a genius in his way, and hisfather was growing old, and let Herr Wilhelm--Moritz we will call thefamily name--do pretty much as he chose. And on the whole Herr Wilhelmdid well. He was cautious, and he had the benefit of the still greatercaution and larger experience of Herr Gerhardt, the second partner inthe firm.

  Patents and the laws which regulate them are queer things to have to dowith. No one who has not had personal experience of the complicationsthat arise could believe how far these spread and how entangled theybecome. Great acuteness as well as caution is called for if you wouldguide your patent bark safely to port--and perhaps more than anything,a power of holding your tongue. I was no chatterbox, nor, when on amission of importance, did I go about looking as if I were burstingwith secrets, which is, in my opinion, almost as dangerous as revealingthem. No one, to meet me on the journeys which it often fell to my lotto undertake, would have guessed that I had anything on my mind but aneasy-going young fellow's natural interest in his surroundings, thoughmany a time I have stayed awake through a whole night of railway travelif at all doubtful about my fellow-passengers, or not dared to go tosleep in a hotel without a ready-loaded revolver by my pillow.

  For now and then--though not through me--our secrets did ooze out. Andif, as _has_ happened, they were secrets connected with Governmentorders or contracts, there was, or but for the exertion of the greatestenergy and tact on the part of my superiors, there _would_ have been, toput it plainly, the devil to pay.

  One morning--it was nearing the end of November--I was sent for to HerrWilhelm's private room. There I found him and Herr Gerhardt before atable spread with papers covered with figures and calculations, andsheets of beautifully executed diagrams.

  "Lutz," said Herr Wilhelm. He had known me from childhood, and oftencalled me by the abbreviation of my Christian name, which is Ludwig,or Louis. "Lutz, we are going to confide to you a matter of extremeimportance. You must be prepared to start for London to-morrow."

  "All right, sir," I said, "I shall be ready."

  "You will take the express through to Calais--on the whole it is thebest route, especially at this season. By travelling all night you willcatch the boat there, and arrive in London so as to have a good night'srest, and be clear-headed for work the next morning."

  I bowed agreement, but ventured to make a suggestion.

  "If, as I infer, the matter is one of great importance," I said, "wouldit not be well for me to start sooner? I can--yes," throwing a rapidsurvey over the work I had before me for the next two days--"I can beready to-night."

  Herr Wilhelm looked at Herr Gerhardt. Herr Gerhardt shook his head.

  "No," he replied; "to-morrow it must be," and then he proceeded toexplain to me why.

  I need not attempt to give all the details of the matter with which Iwas entrusted. Indeed, to "lay" readers it would be impossible. Sufficeit to say, the whole concerned a patent--that of a very remarkable andwonderful invention, which it was hoped and believed the Governmentsof both countries would take up. But to secure this being done in athoroughly satisfactory manner it was necessary that our firm should goabout it in concert with an English house of first-rate standing. Tothis house--the firm of Messrs. Bluestone and Fagg I will call them--Iwas to be sent with full explanations. And the next half-hour or morepassed in my superiors going minutely into the details, so as to satisfythemselves that I understood. The mastering of the whole was notdifficult, for I was well grounded technically; and like many of thebest things the idea was essentially simple, and the diagrams wereperfect. When the explanations were over, and my instructions dulynoted, I began to gather together the various sheets, which were allnumbered. But, to my surprise, Herr Gerhardt, looking over me, withdrewtwo of the most important diagrams, without which the others werevalueless, because inexplicable.

  "Stay," he said; "these two, Ludwig, must be kept separate. These wesend to-day, by registered post, direct to Bluestone and Fagg. Theywill receive them a day before they see you, and with them a letterannouncing your arrival."

  I looked up in some disappointment. I had known of precautions of thekind being taken, but usually when the employe sent was less reliablethan I believed myself to be. Still, I scarcely dared to demur.

  "Do you think that necessary?" I said respectfully. "I can assure youthat from the moment you entrust me with the papers they shall neverquit me day or night. And if there were any postal delay--you say timeis valuable in this case--or if the papers were stolen in thetransit--such things have happened--my whole mission would beworthless."

  "We do not doubt your zeal and discretion, my good Schmidt," said HerrGerhardt. "But in this case we must take even extra precautions. Ihad not meant to tell you, fearing to add to the certain amount ofnervousness and strain unavoidable in such a case, but still, perhapsit is best that you should know that we _have_ reason for some specialanxiety. It has been hinted to us that some breath of this"--and hetapped the papers--"has reached those who are always on the watch forsuch things. We cannot be too careful."

  "And yet," I persisted, "you would trust the post?"

  "We do not trust the post," he replied. "Even if these diagrams weretampered with, they would be perfectly useless. And tampered with theywill not be. But even supposing anything so wild, the rogues in questionknowing of your departure (and they are _more_ likely to know of it thanof our packet by post), were they in collusion with some traitor in thepost-office, are sharp enough to guess the truth--that we have made aMasonic secret of it--the two separate diagrams are valueless withoutyour papers; _your_ papers reveal nothing without Nos. 7 and 13."

  I bowed in submission. But I was, all the same, disappointed, as I said,and a trifle mortified.

  Herr Wilhelm saw it, and cheered me up.

  "All right, Lutz, my boy," he said. "I feel just like you--nothing Ishould enjoy more than a rush over to London, carrying the wholedocuments, and prepared for a fight with any one who tried to get holdof them. But Herr Gerhardt here is cooler-blooded than we are."

  The elder man smiled.

  "I don't doubt your readiness to fight, nor Ludwig's either. But itwould be by no such honestly brutal means as open robbery that we shouldbe outwitted. Make friends readily with no one while travelling, Lutz,yet avoid the appearance of keeping yourself aloof. You understand?"

  "Perfectly," I said. "I shall sleep well to-night, so as to be preparedto keep awake throughout the journey."

  The papers were then carefully packed up. Those consigned to my carewere to be carried in a certain light, black handbag with a very goodlock, which had often before been my travelling companion.

  And the following evening I started by the express train agreed upon.So, at least, I have always believed, but I have never been able tobring forward a witness to the fact of
my train at the start being theright one, as no one came with me to see me off. For it was thought bestthat I should depart in as unobtrusive a manner as possible, as, even ina large town such as ours, the members and employes of an old andimportant house like the Moritzes' were well known.

  I took my ticket then, registering no luggage, as I had none but what Ieasily carried in my hand, as well as _the_ bag. It was already dusk, ifnot dark, and there was not much bustle in the station, nor apparentlymany passengers. I took my place in an empty second-class compartment,and sat there quietly till the train should start. A few minutes beforeit did so, another man got in. I was somewhat annoyed at this, as in mycircumstances nothing was more undesirable than travelling alone withone other. Had there been a crowded compartment, or one with three orfour passengers, I would have chosen it; but at the moment I got in, thecarriages were all either empty or with but one or two occupants. Now, Isaid to myself, I should have done better to wait till nearer the timeof departure, and then chosen my place.

  I turned to reconnoitre my companion, but I could not see his faceclearly, as he was half leaning out of the window. Was he doing so onpurpose? I said to myself, for naturally I was in a suspicious mood. Andas the thought struck me I half started up, determined to choose anothercompartment. Suddenly a peculiar sound made itself heard. My companionwas coughing. He drew his head in, covering his face with his hand, ashe coughed again. You never heard such a curious cough. It was more likea hen clucking than anything I can think of. Once, twice he coughed;then, as if he had been waiting for the slight spasm to pass, he sprangup, looked eagerly out of the window again, and, opening the door,jumped out, with some exclamation, as if he had just caught sight of afriend.

  And in another moment or two--he could barely have had time to get inelsewhere--much to my satisfaction, the train moved off.

  "Now," thought I, "I can make myself comfortable for some hours. We donot stop till M----: it will be nine o'clock by then. If no one gets inthere I am safe to go through till to-morrow alone; then there will onlybe ---- Junction, and a clear run to Calais."

  I unstrapped my rug and lit a cigar--of course I had chosen asmoking-carriage--and, delighted at having got rid of my cluckingcompanion, the time passed pleasantly till we pulled up at M----. Thedelay there was not great, and to my enormous satisfaction no onemolested my solitude. Evidently the express to Calais was not in verygreat demand that night. I now felt so secure that, notwithstanding myintention of keeping awake all night, my innermost consciousness had notI suppose quite resigned itself to the necessity, for, not more than ahour or so after leaving M----, possibly sooner, I fell fast asleep.

  It seemed to me that I had slept heavily, for when I awoke I had greatdifficulty in remembering where I was. Only by slow degrees did Irealise that I was not in my comfortable bed at home, but in a chilly,ill-lighted railway-carriage. Chilly--yes, that it was--very chilly; butas my faculties returned I remembered my precious bag, and forgot allelse in a momentary terror that it had been taken from me. No; there itwas--my elbow had been pressed against it as I slept. But how was this?The train was not in motion. We were standing in a station; a dingydeserted-looking place, with no cheerful noise or bustle; only one ortwo porters slowly moving about, with a sort of sleepy "night duty,"surly air. It could not be the Junction? I looked at my watch. Barelymidnight! Of course, not the Junction. We were not due there till fouro'clock in the morning or so.

  What, then, were we doing here, and what _was_ "here"? Had there beenan accident--some unforeseen necessity for stopping? At that moment acurious sound, from some yards' distance only it seemed to come, caughtmy ear. It was that croaking, cackling cough!--the cough of my momentaryfellow-passenger, towards whom I had felt an instinctive aversion. Ilooked out of the window--there was a refreshment-room just opposite,dimly lighted, like everything else, and in the doorway, as if justentering, was a figure which I felt pretty sure was that of the man withthe cough.

  "Bah!" I said to myself, "I must not be fanciful. I daresay the fellow'sall right. He is evidently in the same hole as myself. What in Heaven'sname are we waiting here for?"

  I sprang out of the carriage, nearly tumbling over a porter slowlypassing along.

  "How long are we to stay here?" I cried. "When do we start again for----?" and I named the Junction.

  "For ----" he repeated in the queerest German I ever heard--was itGerman? or did I discover his meaning by some preternatural clevernessof my own? "There is no train for ---- for four or five hours, nottill----" and he named the time; and leaning forward lazily, he tookout my larger bag and my rug, depositing them on the platform. He didnot seem the least surprised at finding me there--I might have beenthere for a week, it seemed to me.

  "No train for five hours? Are you mad?" I said.

  He shook his head and mumbled something, and it seemed to me that hepointed to the refreshment-room opposite. Gathering my things together Ihurried thither, hoping to find some more reliable authority. But therewas no one there except a fat man with a white apron, who was clearingthe counter--and--yes, in one corner was the figure I had mentallydubbed "The man with the cough".

  I addressed the cook or waiter--whichever he was. But he only shook hishead--denied all knowledge of the trains, but informed me that--in otherwords--I must turn out; he was going to shut up.

  "And where am I to spend the night, then?" I said angrily, thoughclearly it was not the aproned individual who was responsible for theposition in which I found myself.

  There was a "Restauration," he informed me, near at hand, which Ishould find still open, straight before me on leaving the station, andthen a few doors to the right, I would see the lights.

  Clearly there was nothing else to be done. I went out, and as I did sothe silent figure in the corner rose also and followed me. The stationwas evidently going to bed. As I passed the porter I repeated the hourhe had named, adding: "That is the first train for ---- Junction?"

  He nodded, again naming the exact time. But I cannot do so, as I havenever been able to recollect it.

  I trudged along the road--there were lamps, though very feeble ones; butby their light I saw that the man who had been in the refreshment-roomwas still a few steps behind me. It made me feel slightly nervous, and Ilooked round furtively once or twice; the last time I did so he was notto be seen, and I hoped he had gone some other way.

  The "Restauration" was scarcely more inviting than the stationrefreshment-room. It, too, was very dimly lighted, and the one or twoattendants seemed half asleep and were strangely silent. There was afire, of a kind, and I seated myself at a small table near it and askedfor some coffee, which would, I thought, serve the double purpose ofwarming me and keeping me awake.

  It was brought me, in silence. I drank it, and felt the better for it.But there was something so gloomy and unsociable, so queer and almostweird about the whole aspect and feeling of the place, that a sort ofirritable resignation took possession of me. If these surly folk won'tspeak, neither will I, I said to myself childishly. And, incredible asit may sound, I did _not_ speak. I think I paid for the coffee, but I amnot quite sure. I know I never asked what I had meant to ask--the nameof the town--a place of some importance, to judge by the size of thestation and the extent of twinkling lights I had observed as I made myway to the "Restauration". From that day to this I have never been ableto identify it, and I am quite sure I never shall.

  What was there peculiar about that coffee? Or was it something peculiarabout my own condition that caused it to have the unusual effect I nowexperienced? That question, too, I cannot answer. All I remember isfeeling a sensation of irresistible drowsiness creeping over me--mental,or moral I may say, as well as physical. For when one part of me feeblyresisted the first onslaught of sleep, something seemed to reply: "Oh,nonsense! you have several hours before you. Your papers are all right.No one can touch them without awaking you."

  And dreamily conscious that my belongings were on the floor at myfeet--_the_ bag itself actually resting aga
inst my ankle--my scruplessilenced themselves in an extraordinary way. I remember nothing more,save a vague consciousness through all my slumber of confused andchaotic dreams, which I have never been able to recall.

  I awoke at last, and that with a start, almost a jerk. Something hadawakened me--a sound--and as it was repeated to my now aroused ears Iknew that I had heard it before, off and on, during my sleep. It was theextraordinary cough!

  I looked up. Yes, there he was! At some two or three yards' distanceonly, at the other side of the fireplace, which, and this I haveforgotten to mention as another peculiar item in that night's peculiarexperiences, considering I have every reason to believe I was still inGermany, was not a stove, but an open grate.

  And he had not been there when I first fell asleep; to that I wasprepared to swear.

  "He must have come sneaking in after me," I thought, and in allprobability I should neither have noticed nor recognised him but forthat traitorous cackle of his.

  Now, my misgivings aroused, my first thought, of course, was for myprecious charge. I stooped. There were my rugs, my larger bag, but--no,not the smaller one; and though the other two were there, I knew atonce that they were not quite in the same position--not so close to me.Horror seized me. Half wildly I gazed around, when my silent neighbourbent towards me. I could declare there was nothing in his hand when hedid so, and I could declare as positively that I had already lookedunder the small round table beside which I sat, and that the bag was notthere. And yet when the man, with a slight cackle, caused, no doubt, byhis stooping, raised himself, the thing was in his hand!

  Was he a conjurer, a pupil of Maskelyne and Cook? And how was it that,even as he held out my missing property, he managed, and that mostcleverly and unobtrusively, to prevent my catching sight of his face? Idid not see it then--I never did see it!

  Something he murmured, to the effect that he supposed the bag was what Iwas looking for. In what language he spoke I know not; it was more thatby the action accompanying the mumbled sounds I gathered his meaning,than that I heard anything articulate.

  I thanked him, of course, mechanically, so to say, though I began tofeel as if he were an evil spirit haunting me. I could only hope thatthe splendid lock to the bag had defied all curiosity, but I felt in afever to be alone again, and able to satisfy myself that nothing hadbeen tampered with.

  The thought recalled my wandering faculties. How long had I been asleep?I drew out my watch. Heavens! It was close upon the hour named for thefirst train in the morning. I sprang up, collected my things, and dashedout of the "Restauration". If I had not paid for my coffee before, Icertainly did not pay for it then. Besides my haste, there was anotherreason for this--there was no one to pay to! Not a creature was to beseen in the room or at the door as I passed out--always excepting theman with the cough.

  As I left the place and hurried along the road, a bell began, not toring, but to toll. It sounded most uncanny. What it meant, of course, Ihave never known. It may have been a summons to the workpeople of somemanufactory, it may have been like all the other experiences of thatstrange night. But no; this theory I will not at present enter upon.

  Dawn was not yet breaking, but there was in one direction a faintsuggestion of something of the kind not far off. Otherwise all was dark.I stumbled along as best as I could, helped in reality, I suppose, bythe ugly yellow glimmer of the woebegone street, or road lamps. And itwas not far to the station, though somehow it seemed farther than when Icame; and somehow, too, it seemed to have grown steep, though I couldnot remember having noticed any slope the other way on my arrival. Anightmare-like sensation began to oppress me. I felt as if my luggagewas growing momentarily heavier and heavier, as if I should _never_reach the station; and to this was joined the agonising terror ofmissing the train.

  I made a desperate effort. Cold as it was, the beads of perspirationstood out upon my forehead as I forced myself along. And by degrees thenightmare feeling cleared off. I found myself entering the station at arun just as--yes, a train was actually beginning to move! I dashed,baggage and all, into a compartment; it was empty, and it was asecond-class one, precisely similar to the one I had occupied before; itmight have been the very same one. The train gradually increased itsspeed, but for the first few moments, while still in the station andpassing through its immediate _entourage_, another strange thing struckme--the extraordinary silence and lifelessness of all about. Not onehuman being did I see, no porter watching our departure with thefaithful though stolid interest always to be seen on the porter'svisage. I might have been alone in the train--it might have had afreight of the dead, and been itself propelled by some supernaturalagency, so noiselessly, so gloomily did it proceed.

  You will scarcely credit that I actually and for the third time fellasleep. I could not help it. Some occult influence was at work upon methroughout those dark hours, I am positively certain. And with thedaylight it was dispelled. For when I again awoke I felt for the firsttime since leaving home completely and normally myself, fresh andvigorous, all my faculties at their best.

  But, nevertheless, my first sensation was a start of amazement, almostof terror. The compartment was nearly full! There were at least five orsix travellers besides myself, very respectable, ordinary-looking folk,with nothing in the least alarming about them. Yet it was with a gasp ofextraordinary relief that I found my precious bag in the corner besideme, where I had carefully placed it. It was concealed from view. No one,I felt assured, could have touched it without awaking me.

  It was broad and bright daylight. How long had I slept?

  "Can you tell me," I inquired of my opposite neighbour, a cheery-facedcompatriot--"Can you tell me how soon we get to ---- Junction by thistrain? I am most anxious to catch the evening mail at Calais, and amquite out in my reckonings, owing to an extraordinary delay at ----. Ihave wasted the night by getting into a stopping train instead of theexpress."

  He looked at me in astonishment. He must have thought me either mad orjust awaking from a fit of intoxication--only I flatter myself I didnot look as if the latter were the case.

  "How soon we get to ---- Junction?" he repeated. "Why, my good sir, youleft it about three hours ago! It is now eight o'clock. We all got in atthe Junction. You were alone, if I mistake not?"--he glanced at one ortwo of the others, who endorsed his statement. "And very fast asleepyou were, and must have been, not to be disturbed by the bustle at thestation. And as for catching the evening boat at Calais"--he burst intoa loud guffaw--"why, it would be very hard lines to do no better thanthat! _We_ all hope to cross by the mid-day one."

  "Then--what train _is_ this?" I exclaimed, utterly perplexed.

  "The express, of course. All of us, excepting yourself, joined it at theJunction," he replied.

  "The express?" I repeated. "The express that leaves"--and I named my owntown--"at six in the evening?"

  "Exactly. You have got into the right train after all," and here cameanother shout of amusement. "How did you think we had all got in if youhad not yet passed the Junction? You had not the pleasure of ourcompany from M----, I take it? M----, which you passed at nine o'clocklast night, if my memory is correct."

  "Then," I persisted, "this is the double-fast express, which does notstop between M---- and your Junction?"

  "Exactly," he repeated; and then, confirmed most probably in his beliefthat I was mad, or the other thing, he turned to his newspaper, and leftme to my extraordinary cogitations.

  Had I been dreaming? Impossible! Every sensation, the very taste ofthe coffee, seemed still present with me--the curious accent of theofficials at the mysterious town, I could perfectly recall. I stillshivered at the remembrance of the chilly waking in the "Restauration";I heard again the cackling cough.

  But I felt I must collect myself, and be ready for the importantnegotiation entrusted to me. And to do this I must for the time banishthese fruitless efforts at solving the problem.

  We had a good run to Calais, found the boat in waiting, and a fairpassage brought us prosperousl
y across the Channel. I found myself inLondon punctual to the intended hour of my arrival.

  At once I drove to the lodgings in a small street off the Strand which Iwas accustomed to frequent in such circumstances. I felt nervous till Ihad an opportunity of thoroughly overhauling my documents. The bag hadbeen opened by the Custom House officials, but the words "privatepapers" had sufficed to prevent any further examination; and to myunspeakable delight they were intact. A glance satisfied me as to thisthe moment I got them out, for they were most carefully numbered.

  The next morning saw me early on my way to--No. 909, we willsay--Blackfriars Street, where was the office of Messrs. Bluestone &Fagg. I had never been there before, but it was easy to find, and had Ifelt any doubt, their name stared me in the face at the side of the opendoorway. "Second-floor" I thought I read; but when I reached the firstlanding I imagined I must have been mistaken. For there, at a door ajar,stood an eminently respectable-looking gentleman, who bowed as he sawme, with a discreet smile.

  "Herr Schmidt?" he said. "Ah, yes; I was on the look-out for you."

  I felt a little surprised, and my glance involuntarily strayed to thedoorway. There was no name upon it, and it appeared to have been freshlypainted. My new friend saw my glance.

  "It is all right," he said; "we have the painters here. We are usingthese lower rooms temporarily. I was watching to prevent your having thetrouble of mounting to the second-floor."

  And as I followed him in, I caught sight of a painter's ladder--a smallone--on the stair above, and the smell was also unmistakable.

  The large outer office looked bare and empty, but under thecircumstances that was natural. No one was, at the first glance, to beseen; but behind a dulled glass partition screening off one corner Ifancied I caught sight of a seated figure. And an inner office, to whichmy conductor led the way, had a more comfortable and inhabited look.Here stood a younger man. He bowed politely.

  "Mr. Fagg, my junior," said the first individual airily. "And now, HerrSchmidt, to business at once, if you please. Time is everything. Youhave all the documents ready?"

  I answered by opening my bag and spreading out its contents. Both menwere very grave, almost taciturn; but as I proceeded to explain thingsit was easy to see that they thoroughly understood all I said.

  "And now," I went on, when I had reached a certain point, "if you willgive me Nos. 7 and 13 which you have already received by registeredpost, I can put you in full possession of the whole. Without them, ofcourse, all I have said is, so to say, preliminary only."

  The two looked at each other.

  "Of course," said the elder man, "I follow what you say. The key of thewhole is wanting. But I was momentarily expecting you to bring it out.We have not--Fagg, I am right, am I not--we have received nothing bypost?"

  "Nothing whatever," replied his junior. And the answer seemed simplicityitself. Why did a strange thrill of misgiving go through me? Was itsomething in the look that had passed between them? Perhaps so. In anycase, strange to say, the inconsistency between their having received nopapers and yet looking for my arrival at the hour mentioned in theletter accompanying the documents, and accosting me by name, did notstrike me till some hours later.

  I threw off what I believed to be my ridiculous mistrust, and it wasnot difficult to do so in my extreme annoyance.

  "I cannot understand it," I said. "It is really too bad. Everythingdepends upon 7 and 13. I must telegraph at once for inquiries to beinstituted at the post-office."

  "But your people must have duplicates," said Fagg eagerly. "These can beforwarded at once."

  "I hope so," I said, though feeling strangely confused and worried.

  "They must send them direct _here_," he went on.

  I did not at once answer. I was gathering my papers together.

  "And in the meantime," he proceeded, touching my bag, "you had betterleave _these_ here. We will lock them up in the safe at once. It isbetter than carrying them about London."

  It certainly seemed so. I half laid down the bag on the table, but atthat moment from the outer room a most peculiar sound caught my ears--afaint cackling cough! I _think_ I concealed my start. I turned away asif considering Fagg's suggestion, which, to confess the truth, I hadbeen on the very point of agreeing to. For it would have been a greatrelief to me to know that the papers were in safe custody. But now aflash of lurid light seemed to have transformed everything.

  "I thank you," I replied. "I should be glad to be free from theresponsibility of the charge, but I dare not let these out of my ownhands till the agreement is formally signed."

  The younger man's face darkened. He assumed a bullying tone.

  "I don't know how it strikes _you_, Mr. Bluestone," he said, "but itseems to me that this young gentleman is going rather too far. Do youthink your employers will be pleased to hear of your insulting us, sir?"

  But the elder man smiled condescendingly, though with a touch ofsuperciliousness. It was very well done. He waved his hand.

  "Stay, my dear Mr. Fagg; we can well afford to make allowance. You willtelegraph at once, no doubt, Herr Schmidt, and--let me see--yes, weshall receive the duplicates of Nos. 7 and 13 by first post on Thursdaymorning."

  I bowed.

  "Exactly," I replied, as I lifted the now locked bag. "And you mayexpect me at the same hour on Thursday morning."

  Then I took my departure, accompanied to the door by the urbaneindividual who had received me.

  The telegram which I at once despatched was not couched precisely as hewould have dictated, I allow. And he would have been considerablysurprised at my sending off another, later in the day, to Bluestone &Fagg's telegraphic address, in these words:---

  "Unavoidably detained till Thursday morning.--SCHMIDT."

  This was _after_ the arrival of a wire from home in answer to mine.

  By Thursday morning I had had time to receive a letter from HerrWilhelm, and to secure the services of a certain noted detective,accompanied by whom I presented myself at the appointed hour at 909. Butmy companion's services were not required. The birds had flown, warnedby the same traitor in our camp through whom the first hints of the newpatent had leaked out. With him it was easy to deal, poor wretch! butthe clever rogues who had employed him and personated the members of thehonourable firm of Bluestone & Fagg were never traced.

  The negotiation was successfully carried out. The experience I had gonethrough left me a wiser man. It is to be hoped, too, that the owners of909 Blackfriars Street were more cautious in the future as to whom theylet their premises to when temporarily vacant. The re-painting of thedoorway, etc., at the tenant's own expense had already roused someslight suspicion.

  It is needless to add that Nos. 7 and 13 had been duly received on thesecond-floor.

  I have never known the true history of that extraordinary night. Was itall a dream, or a prophetic vision of warning? Or was it in any sensetrue? _Had_ I, in some inexplicable way, left my own town earlier than Iintended, and really travelled in a slow train?

  Or had the man with a cough, for his own nefarious purposes, mesmerisedor hypnotised me, and to some extent succeeded?

  I cannot say. Sometimes, even, I ask myself if I am quite sure thatthere ever was such a person as "the man with the cough"!